FORSAKEN IV - Harbinger of Chaos

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The Je'daii noticed a crowd gathered around a square as they rode by. The people watched the hologram of a Pantoran newscaster projected above a central pillar, displaying the Imperial crest. They stopped to hear the news.

"... ORTSACT would have allowed sectors such as ours to better protect our borders against the ravages of criminals," said the news anchor. "Sadly, the bill has been defeated in the Imperial Senate, leaving systems like Pantora at the mercy of criminal syndicates."

A large portion of the crowd jeered, shaking their fists in the air. It didn't take long for Pantoran Security to arrive and disperse the crowd.

"What's going on?" said Kroven.

"Seems like we called the end of the Shadow Wars too soon," said Jarriss.

"Maybe our information broker can tell us more about it," said Virra.

The Je'daii moved on and parked their bikes outside the Bad Motivator cantina. After they went inside, Tandin stepped out from the passing crowd, pretending to admire the speeders. He placed a homing beacon on one of the bikes and disappeared back into the crowd.

The Bad Motivator used repurposed separatist droid parts as furniture. Dancers sway over stages made from DSD1 dwarf spider droids to the music of an all-protocol-droid band called Lost in Translation.

The green Skakoan tending the bar fixed his goggles when he saw the Je'daii come in. He wheeled over and turned the nob on his chest to tune his voice modulator. "Welcome back, my friends. I was beginning to worry about you," he said once the distortion cleared.

Jarriss leaned on the bar between two DUM droid stools. "Hey, Eom. How's everything around here?"

"A little stiff." Eom gave the band a glance. "We could use something a little bit more organic, if you catch my meaning. Who's the Twi'lek?"

"Our new xantha player, Zilvara," said Virra.

"A xantha player, huh? You must be really good. That's a hard instrument to play. Where's the rest of the band?"

"Doing other gigs," said Kroven.

"What?" Eom retuned his voice modulator. "Don't tell me you guys are breaking up."

"We couldn't if we wanted to," said Virra. "Give us a round of Thermal Detonators."

"I'm glad. You should come and play again sometime." Eom rolled to bring over three bottles of the drinks resembling the explosive devices. "Your friend is playing sabacc in the back."

"Thanks." Jarriss picked up a bottle and headed to the back with the others.

Sporting a Van Dyke and a cape, a dashing human, with ebony skin, sat at a table made from an HMP droid gunship. He held court while playing Corellian Spike with three others. "So, I told him, 'Listen, your highness, sabacc is an honest trade. Only suckers gamble. And I believe you now owe me a night in your harem.'"

The Cynogan nicknamed Saucer Head, due to the hat over his mask, said something in his native tongue.

"Of course not. He had his guards came after me and I had to jump through a window, landing in his daughters' quarters."

"What did you do?" said the pensive Duros, Kelna Toodo, reshuffling the cards.

"What else? I introduced myself and settled for a substantially smaller, yet highly-rewarding consolation prize."

"I've been to Tatooine and I know krayt spit when I sniff it," said Vilmarh "Villie" Grahrk, a Devaronian with golden earrings. "And that smells like having your head stuck in the mouth of the dragon. Sabacc." He showed his hand.